The Day After
by Nessa Elendil
Summary: Harry's summer looks likes it's going to be the worst of his life. And on top of everything, he has to cope with the premature death of his godfather, Sirius Black... or does he?
1. Prelude Loss

**_A/N: This was an idea for a fic I've had for a while now. Enjoy!_**

Harry Potter looked around number 4 Privet Drive, and it never looked like more of a hell than when he had no place to escape to. Or maybe the dull aching in his chest just blocked out what feeling for the world he had left, the feeling that allowed happiness, or even content, elsewhere in the world than where it never was.

The pain Harry felt with the loss of Sirius Black, his godfather, was worse than any pain he had ever felt, including the Cruciatus Curse. Harry just stood there, lost in thought he wanted to escape.

"Quit standing there, boy!" Harry's uncle, Vernon, hissed at him.

Harry made to grab his trunk to spare himself from his uncle's obvious wrath, but Vernon used his foot to shove the trunk into him, causing Harry to fall first back onto the trunk, then hit the floor hard. Thankfully, his glasses didn't break, although it felt as if his nose had.

Not really caring, or wanting to, since his godfather no longer could, Harry pushed himself up, rubbing his stinging nose. _So what?_ his mind thought savagely. _It's not like you never been thrown around before! And Sirius... Sirius..._Harry was ready to cry, thinking of Sirius again. His godfather was dead, and was never coming back! Sirius had said he'd always be there if Harry needed him, so where was he now? He was dead! And Harry needed him!

Horror and regret instantly filled the young wizard's chest. How could he think such a thing? How could he ever think that about Sirius? He loved Sirius! Even if he never had the chance to tell him before...

"I'm so s-sorry," he muttered to the deceased.

"For your sorry existence, I hope," his uncle sneered.

Harry could feel Uncle Vernon holding himself back while the front door was still open. He dreaded it as Dudley and Petunia moved around the scene in the hallway when the door shut.

"Perhaps you're too stupid to understand when I mean GET OUT OF THE WAY!" Uncle Vernon grabbed Harry by his shirt and threw him into the banister, causing his glasses to fall off and break.

"Vernon, don't hurt the boy! What will the neighbors think if they see him with bruises all over his face? They'll tell those- those _people_ for sure!" Harry's aunt said, as Dudley snickered at Harry being thrown around like some old ragdoll.

Her husband's hand, raised to strike Harry's now throbbing face, instead went to his own face, rubbing his chin as if in deep thought.

"Neighbors, yes. Those freaks will surely come running if the neighbors talk."

Upon hearing this, Dudley made his way into the kitchen, believing that to be the end of the show, and taking great care to step on his cousin's glasses, shattering them, easily, under his enormous weight.

Harry heard the breaking of glass and metal and knew he'd be spending that summer blind. His uncle would never take him to get new glasses, especially now.

"Oh well," Uncle Vernon said nastily, "looks like you'll have to write your no good godfather for a new pair of glasses. Too bad he went and got himself killed!" His laugh was maniacal.

Harry felt the anger bubbling up inside of him. "Shut up!"

Vernon's eyes flashed dangerously. _"What did you say to me?!"_Harry had never told his uncle to 'shut up' before, but he wasn't about to back down; Sirius wouldn't have if it were Harry someone was having a go at. "I told you to shut up about my godfather!"

Uncle Vernon's fist collided with his nephew's face, forcing his already painful head back into the banister.

"Vernon, the neighbors!" Aunt Petunia warned, whispering nervously and glancing out the nearest window as if expecting to see a neighbor's face pressed up against the glass.

"Right..." Uncle Vernon agreed. "Boy! Clean up this mess and out of our sight!" He grabbed Harry by his collar and threw him near the broken glasses.

Harry cried out in pain as glass cut up his left hand and wrist.

"And that trunk had best not move!" his uncle warned before stepping on Harry's hand, causing the glass to embed deeper into his flesh as his fingers were crushed.

"AHH!" Harry looked around, his vision blurrier than it should have been, squinting. Despite all the pain, Harry sensed something couldn't be right as his uncle thundered into the kitchen. "Wait! What are you doing with Hedwig?!" She began to create a racket in her cage, now that she, too, understood something was more wrong than normal.

"The effing bird's not leaving my sight! You think I'd actually let you write to those freaks without my supervision? Ha! Shut up!" he roared, shaking the cage and owl alike.

"Don't hurt her!"

"Hurt it? And have the damn animal loving freaks at my doorstep?" Uncle Vernon seemed a dangerous combination of annoyed and angry. "GET OUT OF MY SIGHT!"

Harry felt his eye's cloud over with tears as he lost his only friend in the house. Cradling his bleeding hand, he ran upstairs, leaving the remains of his glasses, and not stopping until he reached the bathroom.

Tears finally ran down the wizards face as he sat on the floor of his bedroom, leaning against his bed, and holding his shabbily bandaged wrist and hand. Even with his wand, Harry knew it wouldn't have made much of a difference, except, maybe, he could have gotten out some more of the tiny shards of glass that were putting him so much physical agony, although nothing could top the loss of Sirius.

Harry wished he could see his godfather now, just to talk to Sirius one more time. He'd give anything to have him back... Anything.

And so, amidst a fit of tears for his dead godfather, and holding close a bleeding arm, Harry Potter fell asleep, realizing that this was it, in attempt to escape the nightmare that had become his life.

**_A/N: If this doesn't make much sense to the basic plot of the story (although it hasn't really begun yet) it will soon. Please review._**


	2. Chapter 1 St Mungo's

_**A/N: Sorry this took a while. I decided to change a lot of it. Enjoy!**_

When Harry woke, the first thing he noticed was that the pain in his hand was gone. Instead of opening his eyes to meet the blurry vision of his room lit by the day's early sunlight, Harry kept his eyes shut tight, thanked Merlin for the relief he felt for his hand, and sat up.

_Sat up???_

But Harry had fallen asleep sitting up, and on the floor. The surface he now rested on was far too soft to be his floor. The biggest surprise, however, was what Harry saw sitting on his desk once he opened his eyes.

"Hedwig!" 

There was nothing else the blurry snow white patch could be. No longer caring that he was on the bed instead of the floor, Harry instinctively reached for his now shattered glasses which had been left on the carpet in the corridor downstairs.

Harry, as he wondered who would have been in the house that cared enough to get him his only friend back, didn't see the snowy owl ruffle her feathers indignantly and place her head back under her wing as she fell back back into the sleep Harry had roused her from. And it wasn't because he didn't have his glasses.

When Harry's hand felt the cold metal, his thoughts switched from his owl to "what on earth happened last night?".

As the wizard picked up his glasses, to inspect for any sign of the damage done last night, he found another mystery, which quickly branched into two.

Throwing on his glasses, Harry examined his hand, only it wasn't covered in sloppy bandages; it was completely healed, and clutching a piece of parchment.

Curiosity overcame the young wizard as he wondered what secrets this could solve. Haphazardly smoothing the parchment out between his palms, Harry read:

_Harry,_

I wouldn't even have bothered sending Hedwig back to you except that he just woke up. Now, before you go and send Hedwig back with a letter to me, GIVE THAT POOR OWL A REST! I doubt she's had a break from you in hours.

As for the questions I can tell you're wanting to ask:

He did_ wake up, but it was only for a few minutes before he was given a Dreamless Sleep Potion. The Healers said he should be ready to receive visitors tomorrow. So Harry, no need to ask, I'll be picking you up tomorrow around midday to see Sirius. And don't worry about anything; like I said, the Ministry has been convinced of his innocence._

Now get some rest yourself so you don't pass out from exhaustion tomorrow. Alright? And I don't want to see Hedwig again until I pick you up.

Good night, Harry.

Remus

What was this?! Harry couldn't think straight. Was this some kind of sick joke? He felt the anger begin to boil up inside of him, that someone would find it humorous to tell him that Sirius wasn't gone hurt. . . He was gone.

His hope subdued his anger, however, as Harry slowly reread the letter. He was certain that was Lupin's handwriting, and Lupin wouldn't have lied to him, not about something like this. . . Would he?

Trying to decide what this could possibly be, Harry pinched himself to make sure he wasn't dreaming. It hurt, but he didn't wake from this world that was so much better than the one he'd fallen asleep in.

Flopping back down on his bed, Harry glanced at the clock. 11:46 am. Well, he didn't have long to wait to find out what kind of cruel joke this was.

But as 12 noon ticked closer, Harry couldn't deny the hope beginning to bubble up in the pit of his stomach as he paced his room. _He might be seeing Sirius again soon!_

Nearly sick with anticipation, the raven haired wizard forced himself to fall face down on his bed to stop looking at the clock that seemed to stop.

Time, too, seemed to stand still for Harry; anxious as a child on Christmas Eve, he waited for noon.

BUZZ! Harry jumped up.

_Finally!_

The alarm went off for the time the letter said: 12:00 pm.

Harry hit the snooze, a bit too hard, and strained his ears to listen for the sound of someone at the door, or even in the fireplace.

But it never came.

_Lupin_ never came.

12:30. He wasn't coming. Sirius was really. . . gone.

The young wizard's knees buckled and he supported himself with his arms and bed as the realization of this came crashing down and hit hard. Harry felt his godfather wrenched from him again. And grief, anger, and heartbreak filled him.

Harry seized the letter, scanned it over, and ripped it to pieces. His breathing heavy, Harry fell to his knees, and as hard as he tried to keep the tears from falling, they fell. As hard as he tried to keep his cries silent, he heard them.

He couldn't take it. He was alone. Utterly alone.

Slowly, his cries turned to snores, and Harry Potter, once again, fell asleep on his bedroom floor.

* * *

"Harry?" a gentle voice called to the boy as a hand gently shook him awake.

Harry opened his eyes and blinked the water out of them, and the blurry face of Remus Lupin slowly came into focus.

"Professor!" Harry jumped up, realizing just what Lupin's being there meant.

"I'm sorry about being so late, Harry, an unavoidable circumstance arose. Are you ready to go?" Lupin asked.

Harry quickly made sure he had on all necessary articles of clothing, found his wand, and pocketed it, the excitement in him beginning to rise. He didn't care that Lupin was late, he was really going to see Sirius!

"Good, let's go."

Harry followed his at-one-time professor out to the street, happier than he'd been for a long time, even when Lupin told him they'd be taking the Knight Bus to London. His godfather was alive!

---------------------------------------------

After enduring nearly an hour of Ern's less than admirable driving, Stan announced their arrival at St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries, where Sirius was waiting inside.

The two wizards climbed off the purple bus, feeling slightly nauseous, and heard it take off behind them.

---------------------------------------------

Through the front door, past the Welcome Witch, Remus led the young wizard to ward nine, ground floor.

"Aw, damnit," was the first thing Harry heard as the ward door opened. A cheery, female laugh followed.

When Harry looked in the room, he saw two people sitting inside; a man with long black hair who looked - and sounded - remarkably like Sirius was half propped up on a hospital bed with his back to the door, and a woman sitting on a chair, facing Harry and Lupin. Between them was a bedside table and some cards.

"Wotcher Harry, Remus!" Nymphadora Tonks said happily.

"Yeah, like you're really going to get me with that one again," the man scoffed.

"No, Sirius, it is us this time," Lupin told him with a bemused grin.

Hearing his friend's voice, the man turned around. And it was him.

"Sirius."

Harry didn't know what feeling it was he felt exploding in him, all he knew was that it was the best feeling of his life. He wasn't alone. He had a family.

When Sirius spotted Harry, his already smiling face lit up.

"Hey, Harry!"

"Sirius," Harry whispered again, not noticing as Lupin and Tonks exited the room.

His godfather's expression turned from happy to concerned. "Harry, are you alright?"

Harry felt tears in his eyes and his lip quivered from his heavy breathing. Without answering his question, Harry ran to Sirius, hugging him tightly and burying his face in his chest.

"Harry, what. . . ?" Sirius put his arms lightly around his godson. "What's wrong?" When he felt Harry crying, Sirius wrapped his arms tighter around the boy. "It's alright, it's ok. Everything's alright now, Harry. Shhh." He tried to soothe him, truly worried about his godson.

"Sirius," he muttered again.

"Yeah, Harry, it's me. I'm right here." Sirius rested his chin on Harry's head, holding him closer than ever.

---------------------------------------------

Once Harry had calmed down, Sirius held him out at arms' length. "Harry, what's wrong?" he asked, his worried grey eyes scanning his godson's face, now red from crying.

"It's just. . . It's just. . . I thought--" But Harry couldn't say it. How could he? How could he tell his godfather, alive and holding him, he had been dead yesterday? "You'renotgoingbacktoAzkabanareyou?" came out instead, in one rushed sentence. "I- I don't want you to go back there." It was true, even if it hadn't been the reason Harry had been upset.

"Oh, Harry," Sirius' face relaxed, "didn't Moony tell you? Those blockheads down at the Ministry finally realized I'm innocent."

Feeling slightly better, the young wizard smiled. "So. . . Does that mean I can live with you?" The forbidden hope again began to rise in his chest.

If Harry had thought Sirius' face lit up before, he had been mistaken; that had been nothing compared to how his godfather's face lit now. "You mean you still want to?" he asked excitedly.

"If I can."

Still smiling, Sirius placed a hand on each of Harry's shoulders. "Of course you can, Harry. Of course."

Harry grinned even wider. He didn't know this foreign feeling that began to course through him, but Harry decided to act on it; to tell Sirius what he couldn't before, and so desperately wanted to. "Sirius. . ."

He gave his godson his full attention.

"Sirius, I--"

"Excuse me, Mr. Potter?"

Godfather and godson looked at the man who hadn't bothered to knock before entering. His tawny hair was like a lion's mane, and his bushy eyebrows intensified that appearance, despite his spectacles and slight limp as he walked on two legs.

"I'm Rufus Scrimgeour, Minister of Magic. May I have a word--"

"No! I told you before that--"

"Mr. Black, I realize that in light of recent events, you may have strong feelings on certain matters, but since you declined our offer of--"

"Hey! _Minister_," said Sirius - who, it seemed, hadn't accepted some sort of apology from the Ministry - almost mockingly, "you aren't talking with me, and you most certainly aren't talking with my godson. You're wasting your time here, now get out!"

The Minister looked insulted for a moment, but recovered so quickly that Harry couldn't have been sure.

"Now, Mr. Black," he said, "you've misunderstood me. I won't be speaking with Mr. Potter alone, also present will be one with a better understanding and appreciation for children, Madam Dolores Umbridge--"

"What?" It was Harry who spoke this time, causing both men to look over at him. How could that- that _thing_ still be working with the Ministry?!

"You've got a lot of nerve," Sirius started, glaring at the Minister. "If you want to talk to my godson, first you're going to have to put that-" he cast a glance at Harry, as if to keep himself from using words he didn't want his godson to hear him using "-_hag_ in Azkaban, then owl us once a bearded monkey flies outta your mother's butt asking for Merlin!"

This time, Scrimgeour _did_ look insulted, very insulted. "Now see here, Black!" he roared. (By this time, many people - Healers and patients - had gathered around the ward door to watch all the commotion.) "I won't be spoken to like that! And--"

"And what?!"

Sirius' smirk clearly said 'You're in trouble now,' as a pretty and would-be-kind-looking-if-not-for-the-anger-on-her-face Healer, who looked a few years older than him with soft blonde hair pulled back into a tight bun not unlike McGonagall's forced her way into the room wearing a scowl and carrying a basin of objects with the St. Mungo's seal on it.

"I won't have someone barging around disturbing my patient-" The Minister turned around and she apparently recognized him. "You!" she snarled, any trace of a kindly appearance gone. "You and your Ministry have made my family's lives nothing short of hell these past few years! And if you don't get out of here now I will take you out myself!" The Healer, oblivious to the crowd, pulled something out of the basin. Harry had no idea what the spindly object was or how to use it, but it looked like if it were stuck in the wrong part of the body - or maybe even right - it would really hurt. It also looked like the Healer _did_ know how to use it.

"Ma'am, you can't go around threatening the Minister of Magic! I--"

"Oh, my apologies! You're right." The Healer put the object away and her expression changed to a sly grin. "Bob! Hank! There's a visitor in here who's disturbing my patient and refuses to leave. Could you two gentlemen please escort him off the premises?" She turned to the Minister. "Bob and Hank are two of our Hospital Security Wizards," she said, smiling.

When Bob and Hank came in through the crowd, which quickly began to disperse, Harry immediately saw why the Healer choose to call these two wizards. Both being well over six foot and with bulging muscles, Harry doubted if they'd even need a wand to escort the Minister - or almost anyone, for that matter - off the premises.

"Well," the Minister started, "I assure you I have no need to be 'escorted' from anyplace; I am quite capable of leaving on my own." With that, Scrimgeour, thankfully, left.

"Thanks, guys," the Healer said.

"Any time, Andromeda."

"Yeah, no problem."

Andromeda. Harry knew that name. "Sirius, she's your cousin?"

"Yup. Harry, Andromeda. Andromeda, Harry."

"It's nice to meet you Harry, in person that is," Andromeda told him, her kind face smiling. Harry was worried for a moment that she was talking about everything the Daily Prophet had written, but was relieved that she didn't stare at his scar. She continued, "I don't know if this. . . idiot-" she added with a smirk and wink at her cousin "-told you, but the reason I kept giving him Sleeping Droughts was because he wouldn't shut up about you."

Sirius beamed proudly at his godson, while Harry smiled shyly, not meeting the Healer's eyes. He felt Sirius' arm wrap tighter around his shoulders.

The cousins continued talking for some time, Harry feeling a bit awkward and staying, for the most part, silent.

Eventually, Tonks and Lupin came back, and, unfortunately for Nymphadora, her mother made a fuss over some smudge on her face that wouldn't come off. As Tonks fought, her embarrassed face blushing, against her mother, Sirius snickered openly while Lupin did everything short of sewing his mouth shut to hide his laughter.

"Nymphadora, if you would just hold still!"

"_Don't_ call me 'Nymphadora,' Mum!" Tonks shot back.

"And you don't raise that tone with me, young lady! I didn't name you Nymphadora to call you something else!"

Not long afterwards, Tonks got free by dragging both herself and Lupin out the door saying something about Order papers. With a hurried good-bye and portkey made on the spot, probably illegal, they were gone.

Andromeda turned back to Sirius and Harry. "Now, I've got to go soon--"

Sirius opened his mouth, but his cousin cut him off by saying 'Not a word.'

"So is there anything you need, last minute?"

"Another bed." Harry's godfather answered without hesitation.

Healer Tonks rolled her eyes. "Sirius--"

"Not for me! For him!" He pointed at Harry.

With a sigh, the Healer started talking about hospital policy and not losing her job.

"But he has to stay, he's sick!" Sirius protested, then gave Harry an expectant look.

"Uh. . ." Harry gave a weak fake cough into his hand.

Andromeda sighed again. "Fine." She went to get another bed to put in the ward. Harry assumed the only reason there wasn't another already there was that while people were getting over the shock of Sirius' innocence, they probably weren't lining up to share a room with him.

---------------------------------------------

Harry had changed into a pair of the hospital's pajamas, and was hugging his godfather again; something that, until that day, he had never done before.

As Harry thought over the day, he knew it had to be one of the best in his remembered life. True, they hadn't done much besides joke around, talk about things that really didn't matter, and play card games and wizards' chess - Sirius was much better at it than Ron - but Harry had never felt closer to his godfather than on that day. It was a feeling he never wanted to forget.

"Good night, Harry."

"Good night, Sirius."

The young wizard snuggled under the covers of his bed, unable to wait to wake up tomorrow, to finally spend a summer with his family. A family he loved. 

_**A/N: I hope I'm not confusing people to the point that they stop reading this fic. After a couple more chapters, things should start falling into place. . .**_


	3. Chapter 2 Dreams, Reality, and Prophecy

Harry woke so refreshed and happy that he didn't care about the prophecy he'd learned of from Dumbledore, regarding Voldemort and himself, for the first time since he had bothered to give it a thought.

Harry felt a pang of sympathy for his godfather from how uncomfortable he felt himself. Hospital beds really did cause more discomfort than they cured; Harry had only spent one night on one, and he was sore and stiff all over.

He made to push himself up into a sitting position with his hands, but the pain that shot through his left arm was unbearable. Harry cried out as he pulled his hand off of his weight, causing him to lose his balance and fall back into something hard. Unable to see anything but blurry colors and shapes, he reached for his glasses, but felt only empty space.

As Harry looked around, squinting, the only thing he was certain of was that this _wasn't_ St. Mungo's. He swallowed, trying to calm the panic rising inside of him. Sirius had to be here _some_where, he just _had_ to. Harry squinted harder, trying to see clearly in his bedroom at Privet Drive. _What was happening?_ The memories of two days ago came flooding back to him, and he recognized the empty area on his desk where Hedwig should have been, found no pieces of parchment that had once been a letter from Lupin, and his hand, Harry was sure that by now it would hurt less if it simply fell off.

With his broken hand clutched carefully to him, he searched under his bed for the loose floorboard and pulled it up. After two minutes of cautious, blind searching, Harry pulled up what he had been looking for: His old pair of glasses. They were too small for his head, taped at the nose, and the prescription wasn't strong enough, but they offered, at least, some clarity to the world around him; even though he couldn't see distant details, he could see more defined shapes.

Looking at his hand, Harry felt like crying again, it made everything too _real_.

_It was only a dream, it was all just a dream._ The horrible truth raced through Harry's brain, but he refused to let his collecting tears fall. He wouldn't, he couldn't, not this time. Without thinking, Harry shoved his hand away from him, and it hit a wall, causing him to scream out from pain and causing a couple of tears to spill over.

"Boy! Are you awake?" Harry heard his aunt screech through the door.

Resolved for the worst, Harry answered, "Y-yes, Aunt Petunia," trying to keep his voice calm, unattached to his emotions that filled him with sorrow, pain, and guilt.

"Then get out here!" she demanded.

Harry haphazardly wiped the wetness from his eyes and opened the door. The minute Harry stepped out of his room, Aunt Petunia grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and practically dragged him off to the bathroom.

"Stand there," she ordered, pointing to the floor in front of the sink. After she gathered some first aid supplies - tweezers, disinfectant, bandages - she yanked Harry's injured hand over the sink and began to undo the sloppy bandaging. She was unwrapping the material from his hand so negligently that Harry made to pull it back as some of the minuscule shards that were stuck to both skin and bandage ripped at his flesh. Aunt Petunia grabbed his wrist and forced it back over the sink. "Stay still! I don't want this mess all over my floor!"

When the bandage was completely off and thrown into the rubbish bin, Harry took a look at his hand and saw it was worse than he had originally thought. Running his hand under warm water, Aunt Petunia used the tweezers to crudely empty Harry's shredded hand of glass, despite his wincing protests as his skin ripped more, causing the water below his hand to have a tint of red as it fell down the drain.

Aunt Petunia finished cleaning her nephew's hand and ran it under the water for a few more seconds. She applied a fine coat of disinfectant to Harry's cuts and began wrapping his hand in a fresh bandage.

Why was she doing this? Harry didn't know, he only hoped that maybe, just _maybe_, she, someone, did care about him. Little did he know that that hope, too, soon would be crushed.

Once Aunt Petunia finished, she replaced the supplies she had taken out back to their rightful place in the cabinet over the sink. "I just want you to know," she addressed her nephew, "I'm not doing this because I care," her tone was too bitter for it not to be true, and her words cut Harry like he didn't believe possible, "in fact, I think you've gotten no less than you deserve. But-but the neighbors..." Harry could tell though, as hurt as he felt, that was not her only reason. Aunt Petunia's lips pursed over her horse-like mouth for a moment before she continued. "Her- I, I owe her."

She left Harry alone in the bathroom to dwell on his thoughts, only bothering to shout "Clean up that mess!" as she headed downstairs.

It was easy enough to clean out the sink, even one-handed, that only Harry's aunt's eyes could find dirty. Had circumstances been different, Harry would have been wondering how is aunt owed his mother, but, for the time being, he honestly just didn't care. After he finished, Harry went downstairs to find a large plastic bag and some string, and used them to cover his injured and bandaged hand.

Back in the bathroom, Harry stripped and stepped into the shower, allowing the warming water to soothe his muscles, still sore from spending the night on the floor.

_It's not fair!_ Harry thought angrily. _Why does he have to be dead! Why is it always someone I love?! ...He was the only family I had left._ Tears angry at the world's injustice threatened to mix with the water running down the young wizard's face.

"But it was real!" he shouted for no one but himself to hear. "It was real..." 

* * *

Harry lay on his bed, staring at the blank ceiling above him.

_It couldn't have been a dream,_ he decided. _I would have woken up._

I would have woken up...

The episode with his aunt that morning had been the last contact Harry had with his relatives, unless he counted entering his room and finding himself locked in the next time he tried to open the door, which he didn't. But that didn't matter anymore. His godfather was alive, Harry had decided, somehow, he had to be. It hadn't been another one of his "visions" which had led to Sirius' near-death, because that's all it had been, a near-death experience, and now all that was left was for Harry to contact him somehow. He guessed that his godfather would be worried, maybe even as panicked as he himself had been, to wake up and find Harry wasn't at the hospital. But locked in his room without his owl, or wand, or the mirror, even if it was broken, he had no way of doing so, at least not that he knew of.

The day drew slowly on, nothing happened outside of his window, and it didn't sound like anything concerning him was happening in the house. Harry resorted to pacing his room, trying to block out the constant ticking of his watch to keep some small portion of the sanity is was surely losing.

Sirius was dead. There was no way around it, no other way to put it. He was gone, and Harry had to deal with it. Alone.

It was early evening, the sun had yet to begin to set, when Harry heard the rattling of the cat flap that had been installed in his door three years ago. He saw his aunt's hand push under a plate with half a dozen crackers on it. He hadn't eaten that entire day, and would have gulped down the crackers right on the spot except that it hurt his injured hand to hold the plate. So he placed it on his bed and tried to make the crackers last for at least a little while, but they were gone in under two minutes. He could only hope someone was feeding Hedwig.

The rumbling of his stomach, even after he'd eaten, sounded so hollow, so empty, that it served Harry only as a bitter reminder of what he had lost when Sirius fell and of what he knew he was slowly losing: His will to live.

He was confusing dreams with reality, unable - even not wanting - to determine one from the other. It was only the second day of summer, and he was already starving, he had no physical attachments to his world of magic, not even his hated Potions homework, and, worst of all, his family was dead.

Harry determined that he would rather die from lack of the will to live quickly and soon than slowly, while lingering on painful memories, from starvation for food and, more desperately, love.

The prophecy was weighing down the back of his mind, though; was it supposed to give him a reason to live? _They only need me to "save the world,"_ Harry thought bitterly. _But what does it matter? How can I save the people I love if they're already dead? Voldemort can have the world, mine won't end up being much different than it is now..._ After all, Harry couldn't help but think that even if he were captured and tortured, he would only be exchanging his emotional pain for physical, and it wouldn't be that much of a difference.

For reasons Harry didn't understand, he felt a strong spout of anger surge through him. He didn't even know what he was angry at, but at that moment, he didn't even care enough to think of that. Driven by the foreign, angry impulse, Harry grabbed the plate and threw it with all his might against the barred window, Uncle Vernon having reinstalled the bars the day before. The plate shattered noisily, loudly, as it cracked the glass of the window.

"What the _devil_?!" Harry heard his uncle shout downstairs. Harry, however, wouldn't have cared if his uncle chose that precise moment to bury him alive in the backyard. As he had told Dumbledore after Sirius' death, he didn't care. He truly didn't.

He did become a bit anxious, though, as he listened to the door being ferociously unlocked. A second later, it was swung open full force and Uncle Vernon's massive bulk filled the doorframe.

"What do you think you're doing up here?!" he demanded to know.

"Nothing," Harry replied, no longer caring what happened next.

"Don't lie to me, boy!" his uncle roared. Vernon grabbed his nephew by his shirt collar and shook him roughly as he yelled. "What are you doing?!"

"I didn't do anything!" Harry all but shouted back. His now panicking eyes were beginning to water, and his response was quieter. "The plate- I just-"

"I've had it with you, boy! If you're not going to appreciate what we give you out of the goodness of our hearts, then you aren't going to get it!" He threw the small teenager against something, Harry didn't know what, except that it was hard and had a corner. Without bothering to see that his nephew could still stand, only to watch for a few moments as Harry struggled to get up with pain coursing through his entire right side, he left the room, closing and relocking the door.

It was a full eight minutes before Harry found the strength to pull himself to his bed. Between his hand and his side, the throbbing pain was just enough to help him forget the sorrow and grief he felt, at least until he laid face down on his bed, burying his face in his pillow, and not giving a second thought to the world.

**_A/N: Hmm... What Harry really doesn't care about - apparently one of the things - is stated right in here. He doesn't say or think it, but it's stated there. Anyone know what it is? (I didn't even realize it until I was typing it)_**


	4. Chapter 3 Home At Last

_**A/N: In chapter two, " "Nothing," Harry replied,** no longer caring what happened next**." You kind of had to know what you were looking for, What Happened Next is the title of another of my fics about what happens after death. In this story, it could be taken as Harry doesn't care what happens after death, which is something just about everyone has questions on, so they all care about it in some way.**  
**In this chapter, I expect you'll find the content more weird than humorous. I wasn't really aiming for "funny", just a way to sort of "lighten the mood" I guess you could say. Ok, I've rambled for long enough now.**_

* * *

**Chapter 3**

When Harry woke up, for about a minute, he couldn't understand why. It was still looked dark and he was tired. Then he noticed a feeling and sound like someone was jumping on the foot of his bed. He grabbed his glasses, putting them on, as he sat up groggily. The sight he was met with woke him up instantly.

At the foot of his bed, a dog, large, black, and shaggy, was jumping with its tongue lolling out of its mouth. When it saw Harry was awake, the dog ceased jumping, started wagging its tail wildly, bent down to Harry's eye level, and barked happily a couple of times.

"_Sirius?_"

The dog went over to Harry and started to lick his face, then continued its jumping, clearly saying "Get up."

The dog's glee that Harry was awake, however, was short lived, as a Healer who'd heard the barking came into the room.

"Sirius Black, what on earth are you doing?!" Sirius's cousin angrily hissed, snapping the door shut behind her.

Snuffles, who hadn't noticed her entrance and was, at the time, in the air, lost his balance and fell with a _yelp!_ to the floor. Not a minute later, Harry's godfather poked his head up from in between the beds and was rubbing a sore spot on his crown.

"_Merlin_, Andromeda. What was that for?"

Andromeda chose to ignore this question. "Honestly, Sirius, your skull is so thick I'm amazed your brain isn't pea-sized to fit inside."

"As proved by the wand administered CAT scan," Sirius said proudly with a wink at his godson. "Owww!"

His cousin and Healer decided to roll her eyes and pull him back onto the bed by his ear.

"I thought you said I could leave today."

"You were told not to engage in any strenuous activity! Sirius, I think the rest of the hospital was just using the 'escaped madman convicted of murder' as an excuse for just not wanting to put up with you!"

Sirius flashed her a Marauders' grin.

Harry, though beginning to doubt his sanity, was finding this whole conversation rather amusing.

"That wasn't a compliment!" Andromeda snapped back.

"But how was my activity strenuous?" Sirius whined.

"It is strenuous when you, in the form of an illegal Animagus, take a great flying leap off a bed and onto a hard floor, landing on your head," she stated slyly.

Sirius just grinned. "Well, I am still leaving today, right?"

"Yes, yes. I've spent enough time in here though; I have a patient down the corridor I need to check in on. I probably won't be seeing you again today. Bye, Sirius," she said, giving him a brief hug. "Harry, you make sure he doesn't go crazy with his newfound freedom. He needs rest. Bye, now."

She left and Sirius turned to Harry. "You do know that in the traditional godfather/godson relationship I'd be the one keeping _you_ in line?"

Harry snorted, he couldn't help it.

Sirius gave a look of mock surprise. "Do you mock my authority?"

Harry laughed. He had decided that if he _was_ mad, it didn't matter. He had his godfather back, and he was going to enjoy it, enjoy finally having a real family that he could remember and didn't have to hide from the world. "No, just your ability to enforce it."

Sirius scoffed indignantly. "I have half a mind to ground you."

"You have half a mind period, Padfoot."

Lupin was back. He pulled something out of his pocket and handed it to Harry. "I took the liberty of getting the rest of your things from your aunt and uncle's. I sent Hedwig with a letter to Dumbledore explaining what's going on here, but her cage is shrunken in there."

"Thanks, Pr-- Remus," Harry said, taking his shrunken trunk from his ex-professor, feeling a bit awkward calling him by his first name.

Sirius neglected to give the "half a mind" comment a direct answer. "So where's Tonks? Maybe we can get _some_one in this room who appreciates me."

Lupin looked at Sirius in disbelief. "We do appreciate you, Sirius. We'd just appreciate you more if you shut up."

"You think you're so funny, don't you?"

"And, apparently, I'm not the only one." Remus pointed to Harry, who was shaking with silent laughter.

"Yeah, we'll see how funny you find this after I ground you," Sirius muttered to his godson.

"Well, Padfoot, I'm pretty sure that he won't be too bored if you ground him. You're bound to do _some_thing stupid that'll provide adequate amusement. And I won't be looking to Nymphadora for support if I were you either."

"Why's that?" Again, Sirius ignored answering the insulting comment.

"We ran into her mother down the corridor. I got away, but she wasn't so lucky."

"What?! You left my little cousin alone with that- that madwoman?! What the hell's wrong with you?!"

"Nothing... Yet," said Tonks as she came into the room. "And don't you talk about my mother like that, Sirius!"

"What is this? Gang Up On Sirius Day?"

Tonks rolled her eyes. "Kingsley, Mad-Eye, Hagrid, and Emmeline are waiting outside. Thankfully Dumbledore needed to talk with the Muggle Minister, so Kingsley got the day off, because they were all that were available besides us. So whenever you're ready, we can leave."

"So I still need a guard?" Harry asked. He wasn't stupid, they weren't here to escort Sirius.

Lupin smiled sympathetically. "Afraid so."

Harry nodded and grabbed his clothes from the day before - they weren't _that_ dirty, after all - and went into the bathroom (apparently, his godfather had been such an annoying patient that the Healers did everything possible to keep him out of their sight unless absolutely necessary) to change. From behind the door, he head "Do you mind?!" and two people snicker and exit the room he had just left.

A few minutes after Harry finished changing, he heard his godfather tell him to come out of the bathroom whenever he was finished. The younger wizard came out to see the older, dressed and sitting on the edge of his bed, stuffing on his shoes.

"Harry, are you ok?" Sirius asked once Harry had reentered the room.

Harry could tell that Sirius was still a bit worried over his "display" ...was it yesterday or the day before? Harry didn't know. "Yeah," he answered. He may not have been entirely truthful, but, for now, he was fine. And that was all Sirius needed to know, even if it wasn't all that he wanted to say.

Sirius seemed to know his godson wasn't being honest, but he let it drop. "All right, let's go."

Harry nodded and stuffed his shrunken trunk and wand into his pockets, and made to follow his godfather out of the room.

The second Sirius stepped foot outside the ward, however, an earsplitting screech shouted "Sirius Black, get back into that room!"

"Holy Merlin!" Sirius yelled, immediately obliging as his cousin came into view.

The witch's stern face suddenly burst out laughing, and morphed into the cheery face of her daughter.

"Tonks!"

Harry and Remus, who had turned the corner for a better view of the whole ordeal, were laughing as well.

"Sorry, dear cousin, but Mum did tell me to make sure you drank you potion before you left."

"What potion?" Sirius asked innocently.

"That one," Tonks replied, pointing to the only potion in the room.

Sirius made a face and sat on the chair next to his bed. "Not gonna do it. That tastes like something out of a sewer."

"Well," Tonks said, "Mum also said that if you didn't to push..." she seemed to be thinking over her options, as if she couldn't remember the exact instructions her mother had given, "this button," she decided, and pushed it.

Instantly, the bed (that Sirius had been resting his hand on, no less) folded up. And because his hand had been resting there, it had been, well, squished; and apparently, squished enough to make Sirius fall off the chair and onto his knees. "That was my _hand_."

Lupin doubled over in laughter and Harry was shaking silently for the same reason. Tonks, however, was shocked by what she had done.

"Oh, Sirius, I'm sorry! I must have pressed the wrong button!" She approached the folded bed, trying to find a way to open it without causing more damage.

The next words out of Sirius's mouth were "You think?"

"Remus, stop that and help me! I don't want to make this worse!"

"I doubt even _you_ could," Sirius said, trying to keep his voice for letting anyone know his hand had just been flattened.

Together, Tonks and Remus, with some help from Harry, managed to get the bed back into a more comfortable position without breaking it on Sirius's already throbbing hand.

Lupin also managed to convince Sirius to drink his potion or more of him would go back to the "mattress prison".

"Finally!" as Sirius put it, they could leave. 

* * *

Mad-Eye Moody had decided they would take the Muggle Underground to Sirius's new house, which Sirius had gotten since he refused, as a free man, to live in the house of his ancestors.

The guard and the one they were guarding found the trip rather... eventful. Hagrid had loudly complained about the trains and train seats still being too slow and too small after he'd gotten stuck in the ticket barrier (again), and Sirius had decided to "accidentally" take a wrong turn, which resulted in a few elderly women beating him over the head with their umbrellas shouting "Police!" (Apparently, the news of Sirius's innocence hadn't reached the Muggle population.) Mad-Eye had to rescue him from the old ladies and, in the midst of it, had the bowler hat which covered his electric blue eye knocked off his head. That sent most of the old women, or as Sirius called them, the "Grannies Club", into a panic, and they hurriedly left the scene. One of the women, however, found his wild, spinning, mad eye attractive and asked him to call her. With that action, Alastor's paranoia became evident, and a couple of people from the guard had to step in, even though they had all quite enjoyed seeing Sirius beat by a few old ladies. After that, Moody just about lost it and shouted "Constant Vigilance!" at least once every four and a half minutes when he thought the guard was becoming too relaxed in what was obviously an extremely "open" area.

To no one's surprise, they were all glad when they reached their destination; though none more so than Harry. He was finally home, with a family. _His_ family.

The front door was where everyone left, except for Sirius, who was grinning like the madman the old ladies thought he was, and Harry, who could never remember being this happy.

"Harry? Aren't you going to open the door? You've been staring at it long enough."

Harry smiled and nodded, pushing open the door to his home. The place was beautiful. Harry couldn't find words fitting enough to describe it. The rooms were large and comfortable just to look at, and the walls were lined with photos of the Marauders (excluding Wormtail), Lily, and Harry. A large fireplace was in the living room, surrounded by a odd assortment of the most comfortable looking chairs and a couch that Harry had ever seen.

"Why's there a fire going?" Harry asked. It was July after all, and they had only just arrived.

Sirius shrugged off that question and said, "Your bedroom's upstairs. Second door on the right."

Again, Harry nodded, and went upstairs. He found the door in question and opened it.

"We were wondering when you'd get here, mate."

"_Ron?_" Harry asked in disbelief and amazement, staring at the redhead sitting on a chair at a desk a few feet from what had to be Harry's bed.

"Yeah," Ron said, getting up and grinning. "Hermione's here too, somewhere. She found out you have a house-elf or something and won't let anyone, including the house-elf, hear the end of it."

"Well, Ron, how can I actively promote S.P.E.W. when our secretary has an enslaved house-elf of his own? It's hypocrisy!"

Harry saw Ron mouth 'mental' before turning to greet his other best friend.

"Hey, Hermione."

"Hi, Harry," she said, giving him a hug. "How's your summer?"

"You mean the entire two days of it?" Ron inquired.

"Well," Hermione said, "a lot has happened, hasn't it, Harry?"

"Yeah," Harry answered. "More than you know," he added under his breath.

"What was that?" Hermione asked.

"Nothing," Harry said. "C'mon, I'm starved." He changed the subject to answer his godfather's call of "real" food being ready for consumption, mentally thanking Sirius for his timing.

Ron nodded in agreement. "Me too." To Harry, he added, "I sure hope Hermione hasn't offended your house-elf to the point where he can't cook."

Hermione rolled her eyes, but followed the boys down to the kitchen anyways.

When the trio got there, they found Sirius sitting at the table, stuffing his face. "You try living off of hospital food for as long as I have and see what you do when you get out," he told them in between mouthfuls and swallows. 

* * *

After eating, an event of face stuffing that Ron and Harry had joined with Sirius, they all spent the rest of the day helping Harry get moved into his new room (not that there was really much to do there), playing various wizarding games, and listening to Sirius tell tales about the Marauders' days at Hogwarts that even made Hermione laugh.

Once Sirius, being the only legal adult, thought they had all stayed up late enough (at about two a.m.), he sent them to bed. Because there were only four people spending the night, they all had separate rooms so far into the summer.

Harry flopped down on his bed, not remembering ever having experienced a better day. He hoped with everything he had in him that this life would never have to end, but he knew better. But that didn't stop all of his hardships from seeming to be nothing more than a distant memory.

**_A/N: In case anyone is wondering, and if I don't get around to mentioning this all later, Remus sent an owl to Dumbledore because Dumbledore hadn't been clued in on what was going on at St. Mungo's or with Harry. Dumbledore wanted Harry to stay at his aunt and uncle's until his birthday, at least, but Sirius felt that if Harry didn't want to stay at the Dursely's, and since Lily and James had named _him_ Harry's guardian, that Harry shouldn't have to stay longer than he already had. Remus agreed, and went to collect Harry. Dumbledore isn't very happy with this arrangement, as you can probably imagine, but is powerless to stop it from happening because the Ministry isn't going to side with him when the Potters' will says otherwise and they had just found out they imprisoned an innocent man for twelve years, so Dumbledore, for the time being, is letting it go. This is because, now that Sirius is free and the Ministry doesn't want too many people pointing fingers at them for wrongful imprisonment (who would?) there is no way that Dumbledore could legally make Harry stay with his "relatives" without Harry's consent. And FYI, the Dursleys aren't such jerks when Sirius is alive, because Vernon is _very_ intimidated by a mad mass murderer, which he believes Sirius is.  
Wow, I usually don't blab on and on like that... Sorry if I bored you with all that. Just hope the chapter's a bit better now._**


	5. Chapter 4 Back Again

**_A/N: Okay, so I reread the last chapter and realized that I must have gone temporarily insane (moreso than usual, that is). So I have revised it. I just hope that it's not as... well, that it's better than before. Here's chapter four; enjoy!_**

* * *

**Chapter 4**

Harry would be lying to himself if he said he wasn't expecting this, waking up back at Privet Drive. Of course, if he only had to survive the day before returning to his home, like he also expected would happen, then it wasn't too bad of a situation that he was in.

He decided it would just be best for everyone if he stayed in his room, keeping the door locked, then tomorrow he would wake up and enjoy the day with Sirius, Ron, and Hermione.

Ron and Hermione were only staying for a couple of days (then Hermione would be going on vacation with her parents somewhere in Spain, and, since summer vacation had only just started, Mrs. Weasley wanted Ron home for a few weeks, but she had offered to let Harry come over any time he wanted) and then Harry was looking forward to spending some time with the godfather he'd almost lost. Harry had never realized how much he wanted to ask Sirius, and tell him; he had simply taken advantage of the fact that Sirius was right there, thinking he always would be there. Harry would never make that mistake again.

Harry turned his head so fast he heard his neck crack when a harsh rapping repeatedly sounded at his door.

"Boy! Your uncle wants you in the kitchen! Now!" he heard his aunt screech.

Figuring he might as well go see what Uncle Vernon wanted, Harry sighed and heaved himself off his bed. Maybe he could grab a few of his school supplies unnoticed and get some of his summer work done. Even if he was going to get his homework does - eventually - in his other "life", Harry still wasn't looking forward to a month's worth of detentions from Snape in this one for not getting his essay done.

Harry got to the kitchen, and the sight surprised him. His uncle was standing next to a chair, facing Harry. On the table in front of the chair was a piece of paper and a pen. Hedwig was in her cage close by. She gave a hoot upon seeing Harry, but Harry wasn't sure if the hoot meant she was happy to see him or if she was angry he'd left her alone with the Dursleys for so long. Probably somewhere in between. But regardless to Hedwig's feelings towards him at the moment, Harry was eager to make sure she was okay. However, he tried to hide his concern for his owl from his uncle the best that he could.

"Sit," Vernon ordered.

Harry had realized that he was going to write a letter to the Order so no one would show up on the Dursley's doorstep, but he still didn't want to piss his uncle off. He only wanted to take Hedwig and go back up into his room with her. But he couldn't, he sat.

"Write a letter to those freaks of yours. I won't have them showing up at my house."

Harry picked up the pen, but couldn't decide whom to address the letter to. "I'll need to write three, if you want it to be believable," Harry said tonelessly, hoping his uncle wouldn't become angered by that fact. He kept his emerald eyes on his owl, looking to see if his aunt or uncle, or cousin even, had done anything to hurt her. Hedwig looked all right though, more annoyed than anything else. Her cage wasn't any dirtier than it would have been, and it looked like she had been eating more than Harry. The wizard guessed his relatives knew that there would be consequences they didn't want to face if Harry's owl showed up looked half-dead.

Uncle Vernon, in response to his nephew's comment, went to a desk in the hallway, pulled out a notebook, and dropped it in front of Harry. "Then write three," he snarled.

Harry opened the cover and addressed the first page "Dear Ron", then racked his brain and continued writing. The final product Harry was satisfied with read:

_ Dear Ron,_

_ How's your summer going so far? Mine's been better than some. Hope to see you all soon. _

Harry

He ripped off the page and set it aside. Expectedly and immediately, Uncle Vernon snatched it up and his beady eyes went back and forth, reading it enough times to make sure it wouldn't cause anyone unwanted and unexpected to show up. Harry waited to write the second one until his uncle gave a grunt of approval.

_ Dear Hermione, _(the second letter read)

_ Hope your summer's going well. I can't complain about mine. Hope to hear from you soon. _

Harry

Harry repeated the same procedure with this letter as the last. True, the letters didn't hold what they usually would when Harry wrote to his friends, but, not only were they being screened by his uncle, but he really didn't feel like talking about his summer. At least not the one he was currently in.

The last letter Harry found rather difficult to write. He figured he'd have to write to somebody actually in the Order, more specifically, someone in the group who'd been there to greet him when he left the platform for the Muggle World, so he decided on Lupin. That was partially because he knew Lupin from somewhere outside of the Order (he'd known Moody outside of it too, but that Moody turned out to be a Death Eater who had supposedly died in Azkaban) and partially because he remembered that Lupin was the one he had gone to in the other... reality, life, whatever it was, when inquiring about his godfather. True, that was probably only because Sirius and Lupin were best friends and he was most likely to have news on the hospitalized wizard, but that was beside the point.

_ Dear Remus,_ (Lupin had asked Harry to call him "Remus" after all)

_ Summer's been going fine so far. Just three days in so not much has really been going on, either._

(Just that part had been difficult to write. How was he supposed to talk casually to an old professor who was trying to keep tabs on him?)

_ Hope all is well. _

Harry

That, Harry thought, should get the job done. Lupin would think Harry was fine, and no one would show up until it was time to collect him. _Which probably wouldn't be until August 31,_ Harry's mind added bitterly. But what was he really so upset about? He was going back to Sirius's tomorrow. At least he thought he was, or rather, had convinced himself he was.

Once his uncle had looked over all the letters, Harry was allowed to let Hedwig out of her cage to send them. Though thoroughly annoyed, she let Harry attach the letters and flew off to deliver them. Harry was then ordered to clean his owl's cage, and then the rest of the house.

Since he hadn't cleaned up the "mess" he had made two days ago (according to Dursleys it was two days ago) he was going to clean more now.

Like I wouldn't have ended up doing this anyways, Harry thought savagely as he polished the coffee table one-handed. He hadn't been too big on the idea of allowing chemicals to get on a bandage covering open wounds - which they were sure to be since his injured hand had "accidentally" bent almost backward when he passed Dudley on the stairs. 

At the rate he was going, Harry knew he'd be lucky if he finished in time to go to bed. He hadn't, but he had almost fallen asleep washing... something (his memory wasn't too fond of him at the moment) when he knocked over a bottle of some cleaning supply. Aunt Petunia had screeched how he was trying to ruin her home and rapped him upside the head, then ordered him to his room for the rest of the night - after he'd cleaned up what he spilt, of course. Harry went all too willingly, pausing only to see that the lock on the cupboard under the stairs (where his school supplies were) had been changed to one Harry knew he'd never be able to open without a key or magic.

Harry hurried back up to his room before anyone could figure out why he had paused. Even though the Dursleys favored having him do manual labor, physical punishment wasn't an experience Harry was at all unfamiliar with, and it was one he was never keen on repeating.

Placing his old glasses on the bedside table, Harry slid in between his sheets and closed his eyes, hoping the excitement bubbling in his stomach would calm enough to let him sleep until whatever it was that brought him home happened.


	6. Chapter 5 Birthday Wishes

**Chapter 5**

"_Happy birthday to you!"_

Grinning widely as the singing ended, Harry Potter blew out his sixteen birthday candles.

"What'd you wish for?" Ginny Weasley asked, inching closer to the birthday boy.

"If I tell you, it won't come true." In the back of his mind though, Harry knew that no matter what he did, his wish wouldn't come true. He had wished for the same thing he had been wishing for this entire summer: to go to bed in the near-perfect life he was in now, and wake up in it. But that wasn't about to happen any time soon; he never spent two consecutive days in the same reality, if that's what these "lives" were called.

"Please?" Ginny pressed.

"Would you just tell her so we can eat the cake?" Sirius asked impatiently. Even if he didn't get along too well with Molly Weasley, the wizard wasn't letting that get in the way of his opinion of her kitchen skills; having Mrs. Weasley's homemade cake stare him in the face for so long was taking all the self control he had not to simply start digging in.

Ginny rolled her eyes as Ron agreed, but Harry still refused. He wasn't ready to tell anyone, not even Sirius, and especially not _every_one, what happened every day… or night.

"That's it. I'm cutting the cake."

"I'll do that," Mrs. Weasley said, taking the knife from Sirius. She served the first, and largest, piece to Harry.

* * *

The party was over; most of the mess was cleaned up, and most of the guests had returned home – Remus was spending the night in the spare bedroom, and Ron, Hermione, and Ginny were sleeping over in Harry's room.

At the moment, everyone was prepared for bed, if not yet asleep, save for Sirius and Harry. They sat together on the back porch, the darkness of night held off by a dim, magically-induced light overhead.

"So, Harry," Sirius asked, a mischievous glint behind his eyes, "why wouldn't you tell the lovely young redhead your birthday wish?"

Harry glared; he should have expected this – Ginny's request to know his birthday wish hadn't ended with the birthday cake.

"Ron never asked to know," Harry replied, earning a bark-like laugh from his godfather.

"I doubt anyone by Hermione and his mother would ever call Ron 'lovely,' Harry. And ever Hermione is a push."

"What d'ya mean?"

"Oh, don't tell me you don't see it!"

"Playing matchmaker again, are we Padfoot?" Remus asked, stepping out to join the two wizards in the night.

Sirius shrugged and took a sip of the butterbeer he had brought out with him. "Well, it's worked out so well for both of you; I've decided to go for four out of four."

Remus groaned. "Please tell me you aren't still on that and you just haven't learned to count."

"Still on what?" Harry asked.

"Sirius believes – wrongly, I might add – that his matchmaking, ahem, _skills_ were what caused your parents to get together."

"Well it was!" Sirius stated indignantly.

"Padfoot, last time you suggested that, Prongs punched you square in the mouth."

"I think that was more the _manner_ I suggested it in," Sirius said thoughtfully. "But you still haven't answered my question." He quickly changed the subject, pointing at his godson.

Harry immediately opened his mouth to reply, but Sirius cut him off before he could utter a sound.

"And I'm not going to settle for some b.s. about how it won't come true if you tell her."

The young wizard closed his mouth, shared a glance with Remus, then looked back at his godfather. "I'm not falling for that again," he said determinedly.

"Falling for what?" Sirius asked, all too innocently. Seeing the unchanged resolve in his godson's eyes, he went on, "You can't deny it worked out quite nicely for you, you know."

Despite Harry's determination not to "fall for it," it was true, what Sirius had said. It _had_ worked out rather well; although whatever "it" was wasn't entirely definable.

**-Flashback-**

Not too long after Hermione and Ron had returned to their own homes, Harry sat alone at the kitchen table, working on one of his summer essays. (It sucked, really, how he had to do them all twice). Sirius had just finished magically cleaning some dished – Harry had a nagging suspicion that Hermione was behind their house-elf's strange, sudden, and unexplained vacation – and he sat next to his godson.

They were talking about something, Harry couldn't quite remember what, when his godfather changed to topic of conversation to girls and Ginny.

Harry had insisted that the girl he liked _that way_ was not Ginerva Weasley; that she was his best mate's little sister and more like a sister to him, too. But Sirius kept nagging him with it, pressuring him, working off of his emotions and anger; until, finally, he accomplished his goal.

Harry stormed to the fireplace and threw in some Floo Powder. He fell out in the kitchen of the Burrow, but ignored Mrs. Weasley's greeting of "Hello, Harry, dear. How are you?" and marched into their living room to find Ginny.

Not taking notice of her brothers in the room with her, Harry asked her out.

The sudden silence and look of disbelief on Miss Weasley's face snapped him back to reality, and he made a run for it before getting an answer.

Ignoring the look of confusion on Molly's face, he used her fireplace to Floo back home. Upon falling out of his own fireplace, Harry was met by a satisfied, knowing smirk plastered onto his godfather's face.

"So, how did it go?" the older wizard casually asked the younger.

Harry glared, his face bright red from embarrassment, and he used his entire arm, both of them really, to make a rather rude gesture directed towards the man in front of him.

Sirius just laughed it off as Harry made for his room.

Later that day, Remus and Tonks – frequent and welcome visitors to the Black/Potter household – came over.

Remus, who got the gist of what had happened at the Burrow, pulled Harry aside and explained to him that Sirius was a manipulative bastard, and that Harry would fare well to watch for that in the future.

Harry immediately understood a deeper meaning behind the werewolf's words: Sirius had done to him and Tonks exactly what he had just done to Harry and Ginny.

It didn't turn out too bad though; about a day later (well, two, if both "realities" were taken into account), Errol arrived with a letter from Ginny. Harry knew it was from her ever though all it said was "Yes."

**-End Flashback-**

Harry had only been with Ginny for a few weeks, but they were a few wonderful weeks.

Except for his godfather occasionally grinning at him and going "I told you so." (The first time that happened, Harry had given Sirius a special _bird_, but quickly discovered that ignoring him worked much better, since Sirius was prone to let immaturity get the best of him and turn his godson's action into a "let's see who's bird can fly the most creative flight plan" competition.) But being with Ginny was worth it. Harry was amazed he hadn't found out his feelings for his girlfriend before now, but he accepted finding them now over never.

Harry looked up into his godfather's eyes. "I just… can't," he said lamely.

Sirius' expression showed a hint of concern that hadn't been present mere moments before.

"Harry," he said slowly, wanting his godson to fully understand was he was about to say, "if you ever want to talk about something, anything, you know I'll always listen, right?"

"Yeah… I know."

Harry shifted uncomfortably, glancing at the ground, as his godfather's concerned, grey eyes continued to scan his face.

The raven-haired boy said his goodnights, and headed back to the house to go to bed.

"Hey," Sirius said, calling him back.

Harry turned around.

"Happy birthday, kiddo."

The sixteen-year-old smiled. "Thanks."

As he turned to enter his home, Harry felt a powerful wave of exhaustion sweep over him. He didn't know where it came from, but he could guess he was entering the other reality. "No, no," he muttered, tears springing to his eyes. He didn't want to go back, not to the mess he was in. Unable to hold himself upright and steady any longer, blackness consumed him as he toppled over.

"Harry!" Sirius yelled in panic, but his cry was heard only by Remus, who paid no attention to his friend as he leapt up to catch Harry before he hit the ground.


End file.
